


The Government Doesn't Leave Typos

by marvelmedigeekfics



Category: Stumptown (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelmedigeekfics/pseuds/marvelmedigeekfics
Summary: Just a lot of fluff and banter when Dex gets sick.
Relationships: Miles Hoffman/Dex Parios
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Government Doesn't Leave Typos

Dex is sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a crappy blanket, nose deep in the case files. She hears something faint, but ignores it, figuring it’s just the wind. Wind must be really bad, because she hears it twice more. And then the door opens. The creaking is disctinct and Dex looks up to see Miles staring at her.

“My god, you scared me!” She says, reaching over for a tissue.

“You called me. Did you need something?” Miles replies, the tissues tossed all over, not escaping his notice.

“Look at this. Weird, isn’t it?”

Miles sits next to her and peers at her computer screen. “What?”

“The... thingy. Don’t you see it?”

“No.”

“God, you are so blind sometimes. It’s right there!” She scoffs at him.

“Yeah, I have no clue what you are saying. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. I don’t see how you can see this!”

“Then explain it.” Miles crosses his arms and looks at her pointedly.

“The...the...umm...”

“Are you okay? You look super pale.”

“I’m a white girl, of course I’m pale! No I know it! I’m not delirious and I can prove it! Look!” She points at a line of text with exactly one typo in it. “This obviously means someone has been hacking into government websites! The government doesn’t make typos. They hire people so they don’t do that.”

“Come on, Dex, people make mistakes. Hacking is not the only logical explaination for a typo.”

“In what world does the government make typos?” Dex presses.

Miles sighs, “I’ll make you a deal. If you let me take your temperature, I will look into this.”

“I don’t need you to play nurse. Cops don’t play nurse.” Dex huffs back, stubbornly refusing his deal.

“Your choice.” Miles stands and turns to leave.

“Fine! Play nurse and then just be a cop.”

“Fine, fine.” Miles says softly, already rummaging for a thermometer.

He finally finds one 5 minutes later, on the top shelf in the bathroom. “Under your tongue.”

As he leaves to room to get her a less crappy blanket and water, he swears he hears her say, “I liked you better under my tongue.”

She is definitely delirious, and Miles chuckles to himself. “It’s 98.6!” Dex yells from the couch.

“Are you screwing with me?”

“No...” Miles sees straight through her lie and plucks the thermometer from her mouth.

“102.3 is not 98.6 in any universe. Drink this.”

“It’s the middle of the day, Hoffman, and you’re trying to get me drunk?”

“It’s water.”

“Mhmm.” But she drinks half the bottle anyway. “Now about you doing your day job?”

“Day job?

“Yeah. Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m off the clock.”

“Miles!”

“I can break you another deal. You go to bed and I’ll will spend the time while you sleep to crack the typo hacking case of the century.”

“Very funny.”

“That’s my final offer. Oh, and take this.” Miles tosses the blanket at Dex’s legs.

“You drive a hard bargain.” Dex says, stifling a yawn.

“Comes with being a cop.” Miles shrugs.

Dex snorts and gets up from the couch, dragging one blanket from the floor and the other pulled tight around her shoulders. Miles smirks at her retreating form. She’s a stubborn one.

An hour later, and Miles making good on his promise with an email to the social media manager, he checks on Dex. She’s asleep, one leg under the blanket, face obscured by the pillow and arms splayed in opposite direction. Tissues are everywhere, just like they were in the living room before Miles cleaned them up. After picking them up, Miles sits in the chair against the wall. He’s content to watch her sleep, because at his house it’s quiet. No snoring. And definitely no ancient rattling fan.

Sometime later, Dex wakes up and groans. “Hi, Hoffman. How you been?”

“Better than you have.”

Dex laughs drily, before coughing a couple times. “How long have you been watching vigil for?”

“Not long.”

“Cops don’t sit vigil, Hoffman. Go back to your day job.”

“I’m off the clock.” Miles repeats.

“Good, then you can run the coffee maker. I have work to do.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sick.”

“I have never been sick in my life.”

“That is a lie.”

“You can ask Ansel.”

“I know he loves you, but he won’t lie for you.”

“You’re right. You can ask Grey. He would.”

“Not to me. We’re like best friends or something.”

“Right, right, totally.” Dex says, rubbing her temples.

“Go to sleep, Dex.”

“Good plan. I will do that right now.”


End file.
